Two hundred days later, over 200,000 deaths, new spikes of COVID with some countries locking down again, on the verge of a national crisis due to wildly nonsensical B.S. about our election, it really does feel that 2020 is the year that all the wheels came off the cart.

For the bumblebees that are feasting on a burst of yellow flowers throughout our neighborhood, life is good. The lizards that were tiny babies a couple of months ago are scurrying about acting as though they are absolutely unconcerned about who did well or not in last night’s un-presidential debate. While the air carries away the toxins and smoke that are flooding into it, no air molecules are being paid off for salacious acts; there is no hydrogen being accused of Epstein’ing oxygen, no calls to lock up pollution or threats to imprison the worst offenders who toss that stuff into our atmosphere. The birds gave up paying taxes long ago, so they just fly about laughing at their poop-targets that wrestle with arcane forms so they can stress out at the beginning of spring instead of focusing on fornication as birds do.

So I’m making an October 1st resolution that I’m going to start pollinating flowers with my proboscis (wink, wink!). I’ll be crawling up vertical walls to sun myself, which is believed to help in fighting off COVID due to the abundant vitamin D that is somehow still able to reach organisms here on the surface of the earth. But why should I restrict myself to being a terrestrial being when part of my resolution could be to join the mockingbirds in shitting on those below? While up in the soiled air, I’ll soar into the freedom only known to the birds who seemingly defy gravity and sing delightful tax protest songs such as I’ve been listening to my whole life. And should a quick-moving foot, some pesticide, or windshield snuff out my life, feed me to the ants and let what remains rot on the side of the road with the pigeons as I become one with the land I came from.

So, where do I go from here? I’ve already clocked over 1,320 miles walking through my plague-infested neighborhood. I still shop like it’s a minute before midnight, and I’m Cinderella. Our president is threatening that he’ll organize the Big Bad Wolf to huff and puff at our front doors should we not pledge loyalty to our Holy Leader (the leader in German is Führer!). QAnon should have never even been typed out on this blog – EVER, so I’ll just let that go. Oh, I almost forgot: California never had the chance to fall into the ocean due to an earthquake as it just burned to a crisp, and its ashes blew into the Pacific.

This leaves me with giving in to the insanity, realizing I was never strong enough to fight the gaslighting, or I could continue living like a hermit and walking into an uncertain future. Of course, I’m well aware that no future is ever certain, but the idea of a hopeful one was something to look forward to. A future where people were at least pretending to want something better instead of preying on ignorance with psychopathic dreams of some dystopian zombie apocalypse driven by a bunch of armed militia with tightly coifed beards – yeah, I’m referring to the Proud Boys.

Then again, this is all up to my perspective. Maybe all I need do is strip down and run outside with my junk, swinging in the breeze as I try to pollinate the first flower I find. Seriously, what issues do you think that the bumblebee above is concerned about? The answer can only be: I’m an idiot.